


Taste of You

by webcricket



Series: 24 Days of Christmas Advent Drabbles [5]
Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 14:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12937113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Summary: Prompt Flavor - Peppermint. It’s fluff.





	Taste of You

Castiel follows the jolly crooning of Christmas music winding the empty bunker halls to your bedroom. The door is ajar, affording a 3-inch gap of space through which he observes you seated cross-legged on the floor at the end of your unmade bed. He cocks his chin curiously as he watches you. A thick fleece blanket wraps loosely around your shoulders. Your expression is red and tearful, but simultaneously a soft smile caresses your lips every now and then – the same beautiful smile that never fails to disarm and captivate the angel.

You stare at a photo album open in your lap, taking your time fondly reminiscing upon each newly revealed page and the memories of _Christmases long long ago_ contained therein. Without lifting your focus from the current page, your fingers fumble for the open bottle of peppermint schnapps beside you. Pressing the plastic spout to your lips, you throw back your neck and take a biting swig. The liquid burns your throat and you swallow hard, coughing lightly. You quickly chase the shot with a squirt of Hershey’s chocolate syrup and close your eyes. The flavors of cool peppermint and sweetness of the chocolate swirl pleasantly around your tongue. The alcohol warms your chest.

Castiel feels a twinge of guilt in his silent regard. He raps a knuckle on the doorframe, greeting you in a low husky tone so as not to startle you, “Hello, Y/N.”

“Oh, hey Cas.” You beam up at him, wiping the wetness pooled beneath your eyes with the back of your sleeve and sniffling away unshed tears. Your small smile broadens into an inviting goofy grin. You’re not drunk, but liquid Christmas cheer is coursing hot in your veins and you’re glad for the distraction – especially in the form of the sapphire-eyed seraph who happens to be the most delightfully distracting being you’ve ever encountered. “Come in!”

He pushes the door wide enough to step inside, reaching behind himself to swing it shut as he moves forward.

“Sit,” you encourage, tugging the swinging hem of his trench coat. The blanket slips from your shoulders into a puddle.

Cas sits, knees jutting at odd angles as he struggles and fails to mimic your comfy posture. He gives up with a sigh, unpracticed and having no idea how to really relax his vessel in this position.

“Sam and Dean got delayed in Salt Lake,” you offer unasked, gazing into his intense cosmic blues when he turns. “Won’t be back ‘til tomorrow night.”

A frown threatens the angel’s aspect at your verbal assumption he is here only for the brothers when his purpose in coming was to speak to you in their absence regarding a delicate matter that has been building with every beat of his heart for some time – the organ that now threatens to burst forth from his ribcage in your company with its vigorous thudding. “I know.” This close, he can almost taste the peppermint on your breath and the flavor instantly intoxicates his heightened angelic senses. He breaks eye contact, gathering up the fallen fleece to shroud your shoulders, fidgeting with the fabric to make it lay flat, confessing, “That’s why I came. To see you. Alone.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.” He nods once. Still nervously avoiding your inquiring gaze, his hands slip from adjusting the blanket to settle and fold in his lap, dark-lashed attention landing on the bottle of schnapps at your feet. He has no idea where to begin. Outright declaring his affection seems too brazen – even for an angel who called Lucifer an assbutt and was resurrected atom-by-atom to tell the tale. He fears your rejection would destroy him. He weighs continuing to nurture the secret loving ache he feels toward you versus the cost of losing your friendship forever. It’s risky, yet he sees no point in further avoiding the subject. His lips part to speak, the words poised on the tip of his tongue when you interrupt his resolve.

“Want to try it?” Heat flushing your already rose tinged cheeks, you follow his gaze to the bottle of peppermint liquor at your feet.

The angel’s mouth shifts into a wordless almost smile and he bobs his scruffy chin. Blue irises eclipse as he contemplates the way your plump pink mouth molds to the brim of the bottle, the clear liquor surging along the bottleneck when your head tilts back. His tongue darts to wet his own dry lips.

You follow the schnapps with a drizzle of chocolate, eyelids drooping in bliss as you swish the liquid between your teeth to combine the flavors before swallowing. When your eyes open, Cas is mere inches from your face, his thumb swiping a stray droplet of chocolate from the corner of your mouth. You have very little time to process the unrestrained tenderness coloring his gaze or the way the rough pads of his fingertips travel and tickle the column of your throat before his lips brush yours. A moan of surprise and desire vibrates your throat when he deepens the kiss, tongue plunging to passionately explore the taste of peppermint and chocolate coating your mouth.


End file.
